This post could be titled “duh”. Move along. Nothing to see here.
We all know I’m a coffee addict.
My husband is aware of it.
My kids see my daily need for coffee.
My blog is my online coffee shop where I chat about everything.
I’m not hiding anything.
But, why the post about it?
Cause, all joking aside, I really am addicted to coffee. Going on 20 years now. It was post-college when I truly joined the coffee craze and shops starting springing up like weeds. Really tasty weeds.
Just as a smoker craves to hold a cigarette between their fingers, I too crave the warmth on my hands that only comes from cradling a steaming cup of comfort. Sometimes I don’t even want to drink it, but rather, hold it, for my addiction is also a tactile one.
During a morning power outage yesterday I was thankful that George had already fired up the Keurig and passed me my morning glory. For a brief moment I had an internal discussion as to what I would have done if the outage had happened earlier, thus making him unable to power up the machine that brews crutch.
How much do I drink? Really, not much. (And that statement just screams denial. Does it not?)
Three. Maybe, four cups a day – one of them, sadly, decaf. I realize that this doesn’t sound like much. Only, coffee is the FIRST thing I think about when I wake in the morning.
Honestly, I can NOT quit anytime I want, for I don’t want to quit.
Right now, the biggest issue with my java jubilee is that I don’t drink enough water. Which comes back to bite me, as I’m currently doing this. Working out hard without proper hydration sucks the life out of me, and not even caffeine can bring it back.
So, here I sit, typing my admission to you.
My name is Joline and I am a javaholic.
Now, enough of this silliness. It’s already 10:00 AM and I’ve not yet had my second cup yet.
Well, don’t just sit there. Chop chop.